She laughs. ‘The sleeve pockets are terribly useful! I can make you a dress like this when we get home.’ She hands me the pin, her hand trembling a little.
A jewelled fox frolics in a pile of blossoms, each one made of a small pearl surrounded by dainty petals of polished coral. Tiny butterflies flit above the flowers, their crystal wings catching the light and casting miniature rainbows. From the pin dangle strands of pearls and jade beads. The artistry is exquisite; this is easily the most beautiful hair pin I’ve ever seen.
A lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. My reflection blurs for a moment until I quickly blink things clear again.
‘It’s— I—’
Gigi leans on the dressing table, pats me on the cheek. ‘You’re welcome, ugly,’ Gigi says, her voice soft as she takes the pin from me. She sweeps a section of my shiny waved hair and pins it above my ear with my birthday gift. She gazes at my reflection in the mirror. ‘It’s perfect.’
I don’t look like myself. There’s someone hopeful there – her hair set in the most fashionable of hair styles. The beads sway, the butterflies dance.
‘You look glamorous, Jing. All those other deities can suck turd-eggs.’ Her grin makes me laugh. She gathers her hair pins. ‘Come on, my turn,’ she says, striding into the sitting room. I follow her and she shoves the discarded dresses into my arms.
‘I have matching dancing shoes for that dress in my room. Now it’s your turn to help me get dressed.’ She’s so excited, and I’m still so overcome by her thoughtfulness, I forget to be grumpy as I follow her, my new waves bouncing behind me.
Twenty
Ruffled Feathers
All marcelled, painted, and coiffed, Gigi and I head downstairs to meet the men. She is resplendent in a glimmering gold dress which is cut straight across her collarbones. When she first donned the dress, I was shocked to see she chose one that covered her bosom, but then she winked and turned. Swathes of silk fell from each shoulder, exposing the whole of her back, from nape to the dimples just above her butt.
Ah Lang and Mr Lee are waiting for us in the lobby. They wear black Western-style suits, but these are tailored more closely. Tuxedos, they tell us. The silhouette is sharp. The jackets have long tails at the back like a swallow and their white shirts are paired with black bow ties. I’m rather taken with this new look. I dare say, Mr Lee is even dashing.
Ah Lang’s gaze lights up when he sees us. He cautiously approaches Gigi, who stiffens beside me.
‘This unworthy one glories in your fragrant beauty which illuminates the very heavens, my darling petal.’ He bows low.
Gigi gives him a snooty sniff. I’m concerned that she still isn’t falling for that flowery piss-fart she loves so much. I nudge her, and give her an encouraging smile, but she only moves to the other side of me, away from Ah Lang.
Mr Lee bows. ‘We are the luckiest men in Shanghai.’ He offers me his arm. It feels natural for me to take it, so I do.
Ah Lang looks quizzically at Mr Lee for a moment, then mimics the action. Gigi turns her nose up and shifts away from him again. Just then, two ladies pass by in beaded gowns that pitter like falling rain as they pass. Their hair is bobbed short and marcelled like the most fashionable women here. Long silver earrings sweep their shoulders, drawing the eye to their elegant necks. Their gazes linger appreciatively on Ah Lang, and they offer him inviting smiles, until Gigi inserts herself in their line of vision and claims Ah Lang’s arm.
Willie arranged a car and driver for us, so we pull up to the Paramount in style. The dance palace reminds me of the fancy car we arrive in – all silver, chrome, and mirrors, and a lot of black shiny surfaces. We ascend a circular white marble staircase to the main dance floor. The place reeks of Celestials. There are so many overlapping scents and perfumes it’s as pungent as a Mahjong Council. The whole space is a concentric set of circles dotted with towering muscular bouncers, also wearing tuxedos which look like they might burst at the shoulders. At the centre is the dance floor. Around that are a number of small tables – women in qipao sit in groups by the tables closest to the dance floor. At the very outer edge are raised circular booths which give their occupants a sense of privacy, as well as the best views in the house. At the far end of the room is a stage with an orchestra.
We head towards the stage, when a squat but solid young man in a pin-striped suit crosses our path.
‘Brother Zhu!’
‘Ah Lang! Good to see you, old boy. Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’ His short hair frames a face of boyish charm. A half-unbuttoned white shirt reveals a smooth muscled chest – he exposes nearly as much skin as Gigi normally does.
Gigi narrows her eyes and Ah Lang visibly tenses.
‘This is Lady Gi, my beloved petal,’ Ah Lang says.
Brother Zhu bows to Gigi. ‘This unworthy one basks in your heavenly beauty, most venerable Lady Gi. Ah Lang did not exaggerate your loveliness. Your beauty rivals even that of the great goddess Queen Mother of the West herself!’ He winks at Ah Lang. ‘You lucky dog.’
Gigi blushes, because of course she does, lapping up that aristocratic drivel.
Ah Lang claps him on the back. ‘And this is Lady Jing, and Mr Lee, our mutual friend.’
Brother Zhu bows, his dark gaze tracking me. His eyes dance and I just know he’s going to be full of that piss-fart.
Before he can utter a word, I put my hand up. ‘No courtly speech.’ I can’t help the growl that comes with it.
His eyes widen, and his impish grin gleams even brighter. ‘When a plum blossom vision as lovely as yourself makes such a request, how could I ever say no?’
He takes my hand and tries to press his lips against my skin, but I grip his hand and yank him forward. ‘Try it and I’ll carve out your rotted tongue,’ I whisper into his ear.
